Читать книгу Bella's Impossible Boss - Мишель Дуглас, Michelle Douglas - Страница 9

BELLA tried to smile at the cat, but it glared at her through the bars of its cage as if it knew she didn’t really mean it. It hissed when she readjusted the holdall over her shoulder. It spat when she dropped the other bag to the floor.

‘You might be a pedigree chocolate-banded Abyssinian, but you’re still just a cat, you know,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘In a cage,’ she added for good measure.

She fumbled with the door key and tried to keep the cage as still as possible. From the noise Minky was making, you’d think Bella had seized the cage in both hands and was shaking the life out of it.

She finally managed to get key in keyhole and started to turn it at the precise moment the door flew open and practically wrenched her arm from its socket. The momentum flung her inwards. Before she knew which way was up, she found her face mashed against hot male flesh.

Dominic’s hot male flesh.

The hot male flesh of Dominic’s naked chest.

For a moment everything froze. Him. Her. Time. Even Minky. But not for long. The cat hissed again, time sped back up and Bella forced herself to plant a hand in the middle of Dominic’s naked chest and push herself upright.

Only then did the full impact of his semi-nakedness slam into her. Oh, dear Lord, Dominic looked like some golden devil sent to tempt all of womankind. Her knees actually weakened. Broad, muscular shoulders angled down a powerful chest to a stomach a woman could crack walnuts on, and then down farther to lean hips encased in a pair of low-slung jeans. Heat flushed through her. Her, ‘What the hell are you doing in my apartment?’ got choked up in the back of her throat, making her sound as if she had a fur ball.

Perspiration beaded her top lip. The spattering of light hair on his chest, its crispness still imprinted against her cheek, tapered down to his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and down her spine, making her shirt cling to her back.

‘Oops?’ he offered when she remained silent.

He looked disgustingly cool and unfazed. It made her aware of how crumpled and unkempt she was. She scowled. Dealing with Dominic at the office promised to be enough of a challenge let alone outside of it. Her apartment, she’d already decided, was going to be a strictly no-Dominic zone.

She hitched up her chin and tried to keep her eyes above shoulder level. ‘What, may I ask, are you doing in my apartment?’

‘Ah … There’s been a hiccup on that front.’

Great.

‘Apparently only one apartment was booked.’

She let the holdall slide from her shoulder to the floor. She set Minky’s cage down next to it and dusted off her hands. ‘Then I’ll go and talk to the apartment manager and organise another one.’

‘I’ve already tried that.’

She’d started to turn away. She turned back at his words. Her skin prickled with foreboding. ‘And?’

‘And there isn’t another apartment available in this block for another seven weeks. In fact, there isn’t another apartment to be had in the whole of Newcastle for the next eight days. Three affiliated events are taking place here this week—a literary festival, an art festival and a youth-culture festival, along with some associated popular-culture conference. The only accommodation available involves a tent.’

He had to be joking! She gaped at him.

‘Chin up, Bella. This is a penthouse apartment. It’s huge. There’s more than enough room for the both of us.’

It didn’t matter how big it was. It wouldn’t be big enough to …

‘Look, I know it’s not ideal, but this is business, Bella. You either roll with the punches or you get out.’

Get out? No way! She wasn’t leaving. Dominic might not want her on his team but he wasn’t getting rid of her that easily. She pursed her lips and resisted kicking the bag at her feet. ‘The apartment is large, you say?’

‘Huge.’

‘How many bedrooms?’

‘Two.’

She glared at him. Eyes above shoulder level. ‘This means setting some house rules.’

He raised both hands in the air. ‘Whatever.’

She yanked the holdall back to her shoulder and picked up Minky’s cage. House rule number one: no naked men!

He reached out a hand towards her and she tensed until she realised he only meant to take the holdall from her shoulder. He picked up the bag at her feet and led the way into the apartment.

Bella followed him then stopped dead and gaped. She choked. ‘Oh, my God!’

‘Yep.’

She dumped Minky unceremoniously on the coffee table and swung in a slow circle. Dominic had obviously done his best, opening the heavy velvet drapes as wide as they’d go, encouraging light to spill into the room, but the burgundy-coloured carpet seemed to absorb the light to create a strange pink glow.

‘What is this?’ She didn’t even try to camouflage her horror.

‘My initial reaction is to say, ghastly.’

She almost grinned at that.

‘But I believe it’s what’s commonly called a love nest.’

Good Lord, not good. Definitely not good. She tried to act cool, unfazed, as if she wasn’t embarrassed. As if the blood in her veins wasn’t circling around her body and dispersing the kind of heat she associated with chilli peppers. ‘I guess we should be thankful there aren’t cherubs painted on the ceilings.’

‘Wait till you see the bathroom.’

‘No!’ She swung to him. ‘Cherubs?’

‘Adam and Eve frolicking in the Garden of Eden, complete with strategically placed fig leaves.’

Oh, that was great, just great. She didn’t want to share any apartment with Dominic, but to have to share this one?

She glanced across at him; her stomach tightened. According to rumour, women fell at his feet with tedious regularity. It was said that he picked them up, dusted them off, made love to them and then moved on with breathtaking speed. She had no intention of falling at any man’s feet, least of all Dominic’s, but … This apartment!

The claustrophobic cosiness made her want to flee. It should’ve been impossible to make such a large room claustrophobic, but it had been sectioned off to create cosy nooks.

She didn’t want cosy nooks!

A pink velvet love seat reclined beneath one window, the same dusky colour as the drapes. A tiny pink sofa sat in front of the television unit, and she couldn’t see how Dominic would fit into it on his own let alone with someone—that was, her—wedged in beside him.

A small dining table held pride of place in an intimate alcove. Four chairs stood around it, though she didn’t see why the decorators hadn’t dispensed with the pretence and ditched two of them. A ridiculously ornate chandelier hovered over it all.

The furniture was dainty, feminine and incredibly seductive. Her arms inched about her waist. The apartment crouched as if waiting to pounce and force her to unleash her rampant desires the moment she let her guard down.

Minky yowled and Bella jumped. She hastily removed the cat’s cage from the coffee table and checked the satinwood for scratches. Dominic glanced at the cat and his lip curled as if he’d just stepped in something he wished he hadn’t.

‘Are you allergic?’ she asked, half-hopefully. Maybe he’d choose a tent over sharing an apartment with a cat.

‘No.’

Damn.

‘But I don’t like them.’

‘Me, neither.’ Minky glared at her. She glared right back. ‘I’m more of a dog person.’

‘Then why do we have a cat in our apartment?’

‘It’s not mine.’ She transferred her glare to Dominic. She didn’t like the way he’d emphasised the words we and our in that sentence, but didn’t know how to say so without sounding like a stark, raving lunatic.

Who knew? Maybe she was a lunatic. Mel had lumped her with the cat, hadn’t she?

‘A favour for a friend.’ She sighed. ‘It should only be for a week, maybe two. If you really hate it that much, I’ll put off moving to Newcastle until later.’ Then she could get away from this God-awful apartment. It’d mean a long commute for the time being, but that was suddenly far more attractive than spending more time than necessary in this apartment. With Dominic.

‘I can put up with the cat for a week or so.’

Fabulous.

She glanced around again and this time it was her lip that curled. ‘This is my exact idea of what a brothel would look like.’

‘I’ve never been in a brothel, so I can’t help you out there.’

No, he would never have to pay for sex.

She stiffened and tried to banish that thought from her mind. ‘I, uh … My father can’t possibly be responsible for this apartment.’

‘He wouldn’t have organised it. His secretary’s secretary would’ve booked the accommodation.’

Right. She thought about that for a moment. This so-called hiccup, this farce of an apartment, Dominic’s reputation … She tried to keep her voice casual. ‘You don’t happen to know this particular secretary’s secretary by any chance?’

He stilled. Then he swung around, his eyes narrowed. He folded his arms. Each movement made muscles ripple. ‘Are you asking me if I’ve slept with your father’s secretary’s secretary?’

She gave up on being casual. ‘I’m wondering if there’s someone in the chain who would find this amusing.’ Exactly how many hearts had he broken? How many women were there out there who wouldn’t mind the chance for a little payback?

His lip curled. ‘You’ve been listening to gossip.’

‘Warnings,’ she countered.

House rules. Ground rules. Now.

‘You have a reputation, Dominic. A reputation any woman would be a fool to ignore. I’ve been told you break women’s hearts as easily as you snap your fingers. That it’s all a game to you.’

His mouth opened but no sound came out.

‘I’m a woman, I have a heart and now I’m stuck in this God-awful apartment with you for who knows how long. Believe me, I mean to heed the warnings.’

He slammed his hands to his hips. ‘And just like that my character is condemned?’

‘I’m not condemning you.’ She took a step back. ‘But you’re a confirmed bachelor, right?’

‘There isn’t anyone more confirmed.’

‘Marriage is …?’

‘A dirty word.’

‘Whereas me, I’m a hearts-and-flowers kind of girl all the way—marriage, babies, the works. That’s what I want.’

She tried to laugh but her eyes had dipped below shoulder level and the laugh caught in her throat. With his legs planted firmly apart they looked longer, firmer. The loose, low-slung cut of his jeans couldn’t hide the power of his thighs. Bella’s fingers flexed and curled.

She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her cheeks started to burn. She dragged her eyes up to his face. His hair was a halo of fiery reds and golds. Temptation personified. She shook herself. ‘Are you telling me your reputation is unearned?’

‘I’m telling you that it’s irrelevant.’

Really? She might not be all that experienced where men were concerned, but in her father’s office last week she’d noticed the way Dominic’s eyes had kept travelling the length of her legs whenever he thought she wasn’t watching. Then there’d been the speculation in their depths, their heat, when they’d rested on her mouth. It had sent an answering heat surging through her. She knew enough to know that meant trouble. She meant to cut it dead in its tracks.

‘So … strictly business?’

‘Strictly business,’ he confirmed.

‘Do you appreciate straight talking, Dominic?’

‘I do.’

‘Then I have to say that walking around half-naked doesn’t seem to me the height of professionalism.’

‘My walking around without a shirt bothers you?’

She refused to lie. ‘It does.’

With a tightening of his lips, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room. He returned a moment later wearing a loose T-shirt that hung below his hips.

Had she offended him? She bit her lip. She couldn’t afford to get him offside. She’d need his support if she were to bring her dream restaurant into being. She’d need his good opinion if she wanted to make her father proud. If he told Papa that she was a failure, that she was stupid … She gulped and refused to follow that line of thought. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

He didn’t say anything. Then, ‘I left you the master bedroom.’

She swallowed. ‘That was kind.’

‘You might want to reassess that opinion once you’ve seen it.’

That didn’t sound promising.

‘Is this all your luggage?’ He motioned to the bags. ‘Or do you have more downstairs?’

‘These aren’t mine, they’re the cat’s.’ Her gear was still in the boot of her car.

‘What?’

She kicked a bag. ‘We have dry food, tinned food, special treat food. We even have cat chocolate.’

He stared at her as if he didn’t know what to say. She didn’t blame him.

‘Then there’s her basket, her blankets, her toys. This cat even has a different DVD for each day of the week. I’m supposed to set them to play on continuous mode whenever I go out so she doesn’t get lonely. This is the blasted prima donna of all cats. Do you still think you can put up with it?’

‘Yes.’ But he ground the word out between his teeth.

‘Tell me we have a DVD player in the apartment or I’ll have to race home and grab mine.’ Which could be a good thing. A chance for fresh air …

‘There’s a DVD player.’

He shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets. He might’ve covered up, but Bella could recall with irritating clarity the definition of his pecs and abs, and how firm and warm his skin had felt against her cheek.

‘What’ll happen if it doesn’t get its DVD?’

She shook herself and hauled her gaze back to the cat. ‘She’ll destroy the apartment, that’s what.’

‘Why’d you agree to look after the damn thing?’

Even twisted up like that his lips looked intriguing and full of promise. ‘Because Melanie is my friend and nobody else would do it.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘Minky’s cantankerous.’

His lip curled. ‘Minky?’

‘Don’t even go there. Not my cat. I didn’t name her.’

His lips twitched. ‘What would you call her?’

‘Medusa,’ she growled. ‘Because I’m petrified every single time she looks at me.’

He laughed then and all his beguiling goldenness and warmth seemed to reach out and brush against her. Her heart surged against her ribcage. Her lungs contracted.

‘If you give me your car keys I’ll go get your bags.’

Without a word, she fished her keys out of her pocket and handed them over. She wasn’t sure she was capable of speech.

When he left, she had to draw in several gulps of air before she could force her mind to work again. Bedroom. That’s right, check out the bedroom.

A short hallway led to two bedrooms directly opposite each other with the bathroom at the end. She peered in at the door on her right, and her jaw dropped. The rest of the apartment maintained a loose French Regency theme but this … This was just plain tacky.

She hated hot pink.

She checked out the bathroom. ‘Pah!’ She walked back to stare at the bedroom. Her worst nightmare, that was what this was. This bedroom, this apartment and the man she had to share it with.

‘Oh, hell, Bella. How many bags did you bring?’ Dominic struggled back into the apartment and dropped her bags to the living-room floor.

‘We’re in Newcastle for two months, remember?’ She gestured to her bedroom. ‘This is … It’s … I …’ She couldn’t find words.

‘Yeah, I know. And I’m not swapping.’

‘Is that supposed to be a bed?’ She motioned to the round concoction smack-bang in the middle of the room, heaped with hot-pink cushions and surrounded by pastel-pink mosquito netting.

‘I guess.’

She swung to his room. Its blankness shocked her: stark walls. Stark furnishings. She glanced back at her room, then his. It didn’t make sense. Overdone, overblown and tacky to cold, clinical and utilitarian? Not that Dominic had added any personal touches either. Her eyes narrowed. The room didn’t even hint at the personality of the man who inhabited it.

Not that she really knew much about his personality, she had to admit, only what the gossips had told her. But she knew enough to know he was a sensualist, like her. They chose to express it in different ways, that was all. He through sex; she through food. Together they could …

Don’t go there! Dominic conquered women the way the Roman Empire had conquered new territory—with a brash ruthlessness and half an eye on new horizons. Bella didn’t want to be conquered. She sure as hell didn’t want to be left for a new horizon.

‘Bella?’

She shook herself and gestured to his bedroom. ‘I don’t like that any better.’

‘You don’t?’

‘It’s awful.’

He pointed to her room. ‘Worse than that?’

‘Just as bad. Why don’t you put some things around?’

‘Like?’

‘I don’t know. Like a colourful quilt or something. Some photos … Anything.’

‘We’re only here for two months.’

Only two months? It stretched out like an eternity for her.

‘I like things neat.’

‘That’s not neat,’ she blurted out. ‘It’s blank!’

She tried to read the expression in his eyes. He couldn’t seriously like that room, could he? She understood his masculine pride baulking at the hot pink, but …

She glanced back at his room. He didn’t live like that normally, did he? At that thought something shifted inside her, but she couldn’t name what it was.

Only, she recognised that blankness. She and her father had felt that blank after her mother had died.